The Grinch Of Court

Dearest Friends, today I realized something.

I am the Grinch of Court.

I come into work in the morning, and I get about my favorite part of the day: warnings.  When I tell people, "GUESS WHAT?!  NOW YOU OWE US $50 MORE!!!"  And my little black heart skips a beat with delight.  I sit there, typing out warnings, and my face goes like this:

And people call, and they're like, "What?!  But it was $50 less yesterday?!"  And I tell them that yes, it was $50 yesterday, but TODAY is NOT YESTERDAY.  Today, it is $50 more.  And they go:

And I go:

On to ruining other people's days!!

Today a lady called in, and she said that she had court in Syracuse, and if she didn't show up there, they would give her a bench warrant.  I told her she had a warrant already with our court, and she asked me for her options.  I told her she could pay the full amount (over $1,000), or she could come to court tomorrow and talk to the Judge.  

"Well, what would you do?"

"I can't advise you what to do, only tell you that you have a warrant, give you the amount, and the court days."

"Well, what am I supposed to do with my baby?"

"A babysitter?"  In my head, I think, "And you should probably see if that babysitter would be willing to stay 44 days, because that's what your warrant is for, and since you're on last chance, chances are you're going to jail."

After she hung up, I received another call, from (it turns out) the woman's mother-in-law.

"Is this the Court?" 

"Yes, it is."

"I saw on Facebook that you guys are looking for my daughter-in-law.  She just moved out of my house, and I've got her new address, if you want it."

And I'm like:

So I get her updated address, and I'm so proud of myself.  

The other day, someone called and wanted to know why their recycle hadn't been picked up.  I told him I didn't know, that he would have to call the garbage company and see why they had left the recycle bin.  I gave him the phone number, and prepared to hang up, when:

"WELL, WHAT DAY ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO PICK UP MY RECYCLE?"

It's never going to be easy, is it?  I look up his address and tell him that his recycle will be picked up on Wednesday, same day as his garbage.

"NUH-UH."

"The garbage company just recently changed it, so that they picked up recycle and garbage on the same day."

"Well, WE didn't get any notification of it!"

"Well, we sent out notification, and it was also in the newsletter."

"Well, we didn't know.  Nobody knew.  So Wednesday?"

"Yes."  The conversation is drawing to a close...I'm almost there!!

"Well, yesterday was Wednesday." 

"Yes..."

"So why wasn't my recycle picked up?"

"I don't know, sir, if you would call the garbage company, they would be able to tell you."

"Is there anyone there SMARTER than YOU than can help me with this?"

Leaving me thinking:

I thought about hanging up at that point, but instead I just transferred him into oblivion.  Moral of the story:  BE NICE TO ME, OR ELSE I WILL SEND YOU TO THE PUBLIC WORKS PHONE, AND THEY LEAVE AT 3:00.

But I always get home at the end of the day, reminding myself that I am the Grinch of the Court, and all I can think is:

Court Day...The Day I'm Reminded That People Are Ultimately Terrible.

I know it's been a long time, dear readers.  But maybe it's because I like to see you waiting with

because I'm cruel.  Who knows.  But the important thing is:

Which is why you're here reading my blog again.

Today was court day, which is always the best day of my week.  It's when the crazies come to court, and I get to see every one of them.  And although every court day is different, they all have one thing in common:

And I love it!!!

Yesterday, a gentleman called me, and started yelling at me about how he couldn't make his payment on time.  I pulled his file and told him that if he did not appear in court the next day, he would have a warrant out for his arrest.  He started yelling about how he "didn't even have the money to pay for a postage stamp or bus fare, and he just barely got a new job, and he wasn't losing this job that paid $102,405,099,000 a year (okay, maybe it was slightly less than that, but from the way he was acting, it sounded like it was that kind of job) for some POS warrant."

I told him he should probably avoid saying things like that in front of the judge, because if he thinks a $400 ticket is expensive, he should try to pay off a $500 contempt fee.  After which he said, "Excuse my French."

So he showed up today (somehow he managed to scrape up the money for bus fare), and he tried to get me to just give him an extension, because he didn't want to have to wait for the Judge to call his case.  I was like:

BUT...you still have to wait.  To which he responded:

You and everyone else, buddy.

AND THE LADY FROM MY FIRST ARREST CAME BACK FOR HER NEW CASE!!!!  I saw her walking down the hallway toward the windows to check in, and I'm screaming internally, because SHE'S BACK!!!!  And I'm like:

You make my day interesting.  And she comes to sign in, like:

Yes. I've missed you so much it hurts.

BUT:

And then one of the court clerks suggested she take care of the new charges when she comes in for her trial in her other case in a few weeks.  And I'm so disappointed, I'm like:

Don't raise my hopes like that, and then dash them against the rocks of my trials!  Don't turn my soul from an ebony blackness from being twisted to the midnight black of unfulfilled and damaged dreams!!

Maybe next time I'll get to see her arrested again.

Then this guy came out of the court room with his wife, and she demanded to know why his fine was higher than it was the last time she paid it.  And while his wife is yelling at me, the husband is just standing there, like he's just terrified by her.  

So I try to explain that there was $150 added to his fine, because he was issued an Order to Show Cause as to why he didn't make his payment (which added $75), and then because he missed it, a warrant was issued for his arrest (which added another $75).  And she went, "YEAH.  And then I made TWO payments of $50, so why isn't it lower?!  It should be LOWER."

She couldn't get it, even when I did the math that after adding $150, taking $100 would STILL leave another $50 over from the last time she paid the fine.  

To which she responded: "CHECK YOUR MATH.  IT SHOULD BE LOWER."

And I'm like:

Math genius, you are not.  So she finally stormed out after deciding she wasn't going to get anywhere with me.

There was this man who came in today, and I could tell he was struggling with his English (and the girl who speaks Spanish upstairs wasn't in the office today).  So I was trying to get him to understand that he had a warrant out for his arrest.  When I finally got him to understand that he had a warrant, he asked me how much.  I wrote down $525, so he would be able to understand.  And he says, "I can pay that."  And pulls out a five dollar bill and a quarter.  So I tell him, "No, five HUNDRED and twenty-five DOLLARS."

And then I explain that he would need to see the Judge to set a payment plan and get the warrant removed.  But every time I try to tell him something in English, he breaks eye contact with me, and his eyes settle...ON MY BOOBS.  EVERY TIME.  And I'm just like:

They don't speak Spanish either.  It's uncomfortable.  But I finally got him to go in to see the Judge.

This guy came in for his Pre-Trial, and he decides he wants to talk...about EVERYTHING.  So I finally get him to fill out the paperwork, and he's like asking me about what I think the Judge will say, if I have a pamphlet about the court proceedings, if I know where the Judge and Prosecutor went to school.  And I have all the phones ringing in the background, and I'm like:

Court Days...the day that makes me think:

But I secretly love them.

Male Nip Slips: The Problem is Real

So it's been a little while since I blogged last.  And there have been some weird/funny/downright scarring things that have happened since then.  And since I want you all to be scarred with me, I'm telling them to you!

I was closing by myself on Tuesday, and this man comes in to pay his fine.  And while I'm taking his payment, he goes, "So, are you alone here?  What time are you done with work?"

And I'm like:

So I'm like, "Well, in the office, but the police station is RIGHT THERE, so not alone in the building, no."

So don't even be getting any ideas, buddy.

Another funny/so messed up it's funny moment was when we received a citation for a man who had had three domestic violence counts in our court.  Apparently, he had just gotten a fourth one that morning.  And when we received the police report, I read it.  Apparently, at 3:00 in the morning, the man got up, and went:

His girlfriend made him a burrito, but when she gave it to him, he said:

And since we can't have messed up burritos, he beat the living snot out of her.  When the cops showed up, he told them she had fallen down the stairs while carrying a box, and that's why she looked beat up.  Apparently he did not think the cops would question WHY she was carrying a box down the stairs at 3:00 in the morning, or how the box beat the living snot out of her.  So, he was arrested for a fourth domestic violence charge, which makes it a felony, and is transferred to District Court.

I received a call today from a guy who wanted me to put a note in his file that it might not be possible for him to come to his court hearing on the 9th, because he told me he was "bleeding out.  And had been losing about a pint a day since Saturday."

"Sir, if you're bleeding heavily, you need to call 911.  I can put a note in your file, but if you need an ambulance - "

"Oh, I'm sure I won't need an ambulance.  I'm going to have my neighbor drive me up to Ogden Regional, I just told him I needed to call you first and let you guys know that I might not make it to the court date."

After I heard from the guy who told me he was bleeding out, I received a call from a woman I've heard from waaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyy too many times in the short time I've worked at the court.

I answer the phone, and she goes, "How come I can't get anyone to call me back?"

And I just think:

I've talked to her THREE times since I've started there, and I've told her the same thing EVERY TIME.  But now she's started calling from a blocked number, so we can't just transfer her upstairs to Holly.

"Well, I can't control when Holly returns her voice mails, ma'am.  Is there something I can do to help you?"

"I'm just so sick of dealing with this.  I didn't even know there was a problem, and I just have been dealing with this for the past two months, and I just want to be done with it.  Did Holly call the Credit Bureau and have them fix my credit?  Did she give me the adjustments?  Does my account show that I paid the amount she told me?"

"Can I get your address and I'll pull it up on the system?"

"Yes, my address is *mumble mumble*."

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that, could you rep -"

"SEVEN.........EIGHT......TWO......SIX.....SOUTH.......TWO......THREE......ZERO.....ZERO.....WEST." And she said this as nastily and like I was stupid as she possibly could, so I'm just sitting there like:

"I do show an adjustment of $103.35, and a payment of $506."

"So my accounts at zero?  Did Holly call the Credit Bureau and get this disaster off my credit score?"

"No, I see your account still owes another $506."  

"Well, that's ridiculous.  You need to write off that amount."

"Holly is the only one that can make adjustments to your account.  I can transfer you, if you'd like."

"Well, she never returns my calls, and I'm getting real sick of this.  I've left messages and called her directly, and I just want this taken care of!"

And I'm thinking, "What?!  Holly never returns your calls?!  HOW CAN THAT BE, YOU'RE SO PLEASANT!!"

"Well, like I said, ma'am, Holly is the only one who can make adjustments to your account.  I can't write off anything, let alone an amount that large."

"Well did she call the Credit Bureau?"

"I don't know, ma'am, you'd have to ask her."

"Well, is she in?"

"I don't know, ma'am, we work on separate floors."

"IS...SHE....IN?!"

Again with the stupid talk!  And I'm thinking:

You didn't get the answer you wanted the first time, so you're going to ask again?  Makes sense.

"No, like I said, we work on different floors.  I do not know if she is in the office right now."

"Isn't there ANYBODY else?"

"No, like I said, Holly is the only one who can make those changes."

"...Fine.  Transfer me.  This is - "

At which point I took great pleasure in cutting her off as I transferred her.

I'm sure you're wondering where exactly I got the title for today's blog post, here it is: today was the one of the most scarring moments in my life, and the inspiration behind today's blog post title.  A man came in today, and he was, um, a little "Buddha-ish" in his physique.  And he was wearing a wife-beater tank top.  I won't post pictures of man nipples for you, but they were gross.  And tattooed with "Justice." 

No, Justice would have been if you had put on a shirt before coming to see me.

Too often we hear about female "nip slips" at important Hollywood events - I think we need to focus on the problem closer to home - male nip slips.  They problem is real, and I'm raising the terror alert to red.

 I wish I was joking.  But I'm not.